Bianca
by Flyerslilgirl
Summary: Bianca believed she was normal her whole life. But as she grows older, she finds out that this isn't true. Bianca Green is a wizard, and famous among her kind. She will be sent to Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where adventures await her. And she might just make friends with a certain Boy Who Lived, red-head, and a very witty brunette! Book 1 in "The Two Chosen Ones".
1. Bianca Wakes

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except Bianca Green's and Daniel Green's characters._

I WAKE WITH A GROAN. The clock reads five o'clock. This has happened to me before. I can never get back to sleep. And it's a school day. Well, isn't this marvelous?

At seven-thirty, my uncle, Daniel, comes in to wake me. Finding me already awake, he sighs.

"Having trouble sleeping, B?" He asks.

"A bit," I reply.

"Nightmares?" I shake my head.

"No, I'm fine, Uncle. Really," I give a halfhearted smile. He knows I wouldn't lie to him. Uncle is not only my caretaker, but my confidant, my friend. I never lie to him.

"You sure?" I nod. "Alright…get dressed. I'll have breakfast downstairs, when you're ready."

I open my dresser and grab jeans and a blue T-shirt. Getting dressed, I glance at the scar on my arm. It looks a bit like a flame. I've asked Uncle how I got it, but he says my parents never mentioned it. It's odd that I have such a scar that I didn't get under my Uncle's roof. My parents died in a car crash when I was nearly four months old. It's not as if we had much time together.

Glancing in the mirror, I grab a dark, curly, lock of hair. My eyes are blue-gray with square, brown, glasses over them, and my skin is pale. It looks like I never go outside. And, to be honest, I don't go out a lot. Some would say I'm a bit of a hermit.

Downstairs, there is a bowl of Weetabix cereal waiting for me on the counter. Since the house is pretty small, we just have two stools at the counter to eat at. Uncle is leaning against the fridge, sipping his coffee.

"Shouldn't you have some breakfast, too?" I ask.

"Nah, I'm fine," he replies.

I don't have much of an appetite. I leave half the cereal in the bowl, dump the milk in the sink, scrape the remains into the garbage, and put the bowl in the dishwasher.

"Let's go." Uncle says, putting his coffee mug in the dishwasher. We walk outside to the car. As we get in, Uncle asks, "Are the kids still bothering you?" Last year, before summer break, I had gotten into a few fights. One got a bit more physical than the others. A kid started making fun of my glasses. He attempted to push me into the mud, probably to impress his friends, and he ended up in the mud instead. Whenever anyone asked, I just said I was quick, but I don't really remember shoving him.

"No, it's fine." I say. "No one's picked a fight with me."

"That's good." Uncle smiles, starting the car.

School goes by quickly. When it's done, I sigh in relief and dash outside, into the schoolyard. My eyes are met with the bright light of the sun. It burns. Shaking my head, I keep walking, spotting Uncle's gray Toyota in the parking lot.

Erik Duncan, a fellow fourth-grader, decides to stop me as I walk.

"So, Green," he says. "What happened with the boy last year?"

"I've told you before, Duncan." I growl. "I'm just fast."

"Please," he laughs. "I bet he didn't even start the fight! I bet you started bullying him, and knocked him down, and—" he stops mid-sentence. The sky has darkened. Lightening strikes. Rain begins to pour on us.

"Go away, Duncan!" I yell. "Before you get us both soaked." Too late. My hair is sticking to my neck and I'm fighting shivers.

"Y-you did that!" He yelps. "You did that!"

"No, Duncan…" I stop. He won't believe me, anyway. "Will you just leave me alone?"

"Gladly," he backs away, muttering something about demonic forces. That boy just isn't right.

When I climb into the car, Uncle seems angry.

"You're soaked!" He exclaims. "What took you so long getting to the car?"

"Some boy decided to try to pick a fight with me." I reply. "He's the first one this year. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a demon now."

"Oh yeah? Why?" Uncle seems interested.

"'Cause, when I got angry, it started to rain. And then when he was walking off, he said something about demons." Uncle is silent for a moment.

"Is that so?" He says eventually.

"Yeah," I reply. Uncle clears his throat, seeming uncomfortable. We drive the rest of the way home in silence. The only noise I hear is the rain tapping on my window.

When we get home, Uncle goes to the kitchen to make spaghetti while I go to my room to do homework.

Homework is fairly easy. When I'm done, I let my math book fall to the floor. It makes a thud.

I look to the calendar. Today is August twentieth. School started six days ago. It seems like it's been longer.

"B, dinner's ready!" Uncle calls.

"Coming!" I reply.

The spaghetti is delicious. But, due to my inability to sleep, I'm sluggish and tired. Uncle notices this. He rubs my back, smiling.

"When did you wake up?" He asks.

"Five o'clock," I reply. He grimaces.

"I've done that, too. Wake up at four or five AM, and just can't go to sleep. It's horrible." I smile. It doesn't really help to know that he's gone through this too, but at least he's trying.

When dinner's over, I give Uncle a quick "Goodnight!" and head up to my room. It's six PM now. I turn on the small TV, making the volume low, and grab _Dragonflight _by Anne McCaffarey, the book I'm currently reading.

By ten o'clock, I'm too tired to read anymore. I get in my pajamas and lay down, exhausted.

But, before I fall asleep, I hear the hoot of an owl outside my window.

_(Author's note: And my first fan-fiction begins! Constructive criticism is welcomed. Yes, Bianca is ten. No, that is not a mistake. Weetabix is an English cereal; kind of like the British version of Life cereal. _Dragonflight _is a real book, and Anne McCaffarey is a real person. I'm gonna update on weekdays, and not weekends. __Tomorrow will be an exception. Well, that's it. Thank you guys so much for reading this far!_

_Flyerslilgirl.)_


	2. Letter of Acceptance

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except Daniel Green's and Bianca Green's characters.

FOR ONCE, I WAKE TO UNCLE SHAKING ME.

"Time to get up, B," he says, smiling warmly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby." I reply.

"That's great. Get dressed, okay? Breakfast is waiting for you downstairs." He walks out of my room, closing the door behind me.

I put on jeans, a short-sleeved, green, shirt, and leather boots. Then I walk downstairs, finding Uncle at the counter, reading a letter.

"People still send letters nowadays?" I ask. Then I notice the bacon butty. Smiling, I sit on stool and begin to stuff my face with the delicious food.

"Apparently," Uncle's voice cracks. "You have a letter as well."

"I do?" I say with my mouth full, surprised. "I'll read it after I eat."

"You ought to read it now."

"Why?"

"Just...read it." He hands me a fancy-looking letter. The address is written in emerald ink. On the back, it's taped close with a red sticker, which has a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake circling a golden _H._

_Miss B. Green,_

_Upstairs room on the left_

_High St. 9_

_Oxford_

"Are you trying to play a prank on me?" I ask.

"No," Uncle says, his voice strained. "Open it." I obey, opening the letter with a kitchen knife.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

We are please to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the list of necessary books and equipment. School year begins September 1. We await your owl no later than August 20.

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

I stare at the letter for a few moments. Surely, Uncle is playing a prank on me?

"Very funny, Uncle," I say, "but you're not fooling me."

"Is that my handwriting?" Uncle demands.

"Well...er..." I sigh. "No, it's not. But..."

"You've had odd things happen to you, B. We've both noticed it. You're a witch—or a wizard, if you prefer that name."

"But...you're not a wizard." I say, my voice cracking. How could this be true? Sure, odd things have happened to me, but who doesn't notice they're magical?

"I never said I wasn't wizard." He pulls a wooden stick out of his boot. Then Uncle aims it a vase sitting on the counter. It shatters, glass covering the counter. As quickly as it had broke, it was repaired.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask. I can't keep the excitement out of my voice. I'm still not sure about all this, but if I really am a wizard...that's amazing! If I can do magic like Uncle did, that would be awesome!

"Because, B, you aren't exactly unknown among the wizarding world." Uncle sighs. "Your parents didn't die in a car crash. They were killed by Lord Voldemort, an awful wizard who started a war before you were born. He then attempted to kill you and another boy named 'Harry Potter'." He lets that sink in. "We—we being the wizarding world—believe the curse Voldemort used rebounded. He scarred both you and Harry. In our world, you are famous, B! The whole wizarding world knows your name!"

"So, if I go to Hogwarts, everyone will know who I am?" I ask. How on earth can someone be famous and not know it? This is all...insane!

"If you tell them your name, or show them your scar. I will try not to let it get out that you'll be on the train to Hogwarts, but I can't make promises."

"So...what does Hogwarts teach, exactly? Does it teach spells? And are there going to be other ten-year-old kids?"

"Hogwarts teaches all sorts of stuff. Defense spells, charms, the wizarding world's history...and it will also teach Muggle subjects, like math...Muggles are non-magic folk. You see, at Hogwarts, students are sorted by age, kind of like grades. There are first-years, second-years, third-years...all the way up to seventh-years. For most people, the magic in their blood doesn't start acting up until age eleven. Sometimes, however, it happens when they're ten." He finishes, breathing heavily.

"So...where _is _Hogwarts?" I ask. Since I'm pretty sure wizards are in hiding, I'm guessing this magical school isn't exactly out in the open, like Oxford college.

"I believe it's somewhere in Scotland..." Uncle trails off.

"_Scotland? _We can't go to _Scotland!" _I exclaim. What is Uncle thinking? I'm not even sure about this "magic" school, let-alone going to a whole other country to go to it!

"Don't worry. We have a quick, safe, way to get there."

"What is it, exactly?" I have a bad feeling about this.

"A hidden, magical, train." Dumbfounded, I stare at Uncle for a few moments. He's kidding, right? A "hidden, magical, train"?

"A hidden, magical, train?" I demand.

"It's a little hard to believe, I suppose." Uncle laughs. "But it's true. I wouldn't lie to you about all this, B."

"I..." I pause. "I guess you wouldn't. So, I'm going to Hogwarts?"

"I believe so, yes," Uncle smiles. "Look at the list of school-books." I give a giddy smile, open the envelope again, and find large list of items.

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1 Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2 One pointed hat (black) for day wear

3 One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or something similar)

4 One winter coat (black, silver fastenings

Please note that all pupils' cloaks should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have one copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A guide to Self-Protection_

By Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Where do we get this stuff? How would someone 'use' an owl?" I ask, trying to think of

any other questions I need to ask Uncle.

"You know how I said Hogwarts was hidden? Well, the wizarding world has other hidden places, one being Diagon Alley. It's a place where you can shop for wizarding things, like wands and school-books. Wizards use owls to send letters to each other. Your Hogwarts acceptance letter was brought here by an owl." He takes the list from my hands and reads it. "We can get all this easily...now, if you have any other questions, it'll have to wait. You're already going to be late for school. I'll put the pancakes in the fridge..." he grabs my plate and puts it on the third shelf of the refrigerator.

"I can ask more questions when I get home, right?" I ask.

"Of course, B," he laughs. "Come on, let's get to the car." I don't know how he expects me to go through school now. I'm sure I think of a thousand other questions, and they'll eat at me the entire day. Who can pay attention in class when they were just told that they're a wizard?

_(Author's note: Here's chapter 2! The letter and list of items are snatched right from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone. _So...that's it. And, thanks for the positive reviews last time! Thanks for reading,_

_Flyerslilgirl.) _


	3. Gringotts

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except Daniel Green's and Bianca Green's characters.

I JUST ARRIVED HOME FROM SCHOOL. And, during the car ride home, I found out the Uncle's gone mad. He was talking about "Floo Powder" which wizards use in the fireplace to go somewhere else. Like I said, he's gone mad!

Uncle makes fish and chips for dinner, which I proceed to eat as quickly as possible.

"When are we going to Diagon Alley?" I ask.

"Tomorrow, I suppose. You can practice spells until we need to go." Uncle pauses. "You know, underage wizards aren't allowed to use magic. The Ministry of Magic can track magic, but only from a place, not a wizard. So it won't be a problem."

"What's the Ministry of Magic?"

"It's the wizarding world's government. They have a hidden building somewhere in England." I suppose wizards use magic to go to these hidden places, because Uncle doesn't seem to have any idea where they actually are.

After dinner, I go to my room to do homework. Everything seems to be going slower than usual. Why can't tomorrow just come? I want to see Diagon Alley! I want to get a wand! I want to meet other wizards!

Thankfully, I'm so tired that as soon I go to bed, I'm asleep.

When I wake in the morning, I leap out of bed. It's seven o'clock. By seven-fifteen, I'm dressed and ready. I run downstairs, finding Uncle pouring milk into a bowl full of cereal.

"You're up, I see," he says, smiling. "I called your school. Said you were sick."

"Cool," I reply. "After I'm done, are we going to Diagon Alley?"

"Of course," Uncle chuckles.

After I'm done, Uncle goes to his bedroom to get this "Floo Powder". He comes back with a bowl full of shimmering, silver, powder. Uncle puts it on the mantle in the living room. He motions for me to come forward.

"Uncle, this is insane," I say. "We can't step into the fire, and putting some powder in it won't help us!"

"Oh, calm down," Uncle says. "I'm going to put a bit of powder in the fireplace, and then I want you to say, very clearly, 'the Leaky Cauldron', alright?"

"Not really," I whimper. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, now, here...alright, the powder's in there. Do as I said. I'll follow you—don't worry." I gulp. Slowly, I begin to walk into the flames, which have now turned green.

"The Leaky Cauldron!" I shout.

All of a sudden, there's pressure everywhere. It hurts a little. Why didn't Uncle warn me about this?

But then, in a flash, I'm there—in the Leaky Cauldron, that is. The place looks pretty shabby. There's a bar and a few tables, but that's really it. There seems to be a spiderweb on every corner, making the place look rather creepy. There's another flash, and Uncle nearly falls on me.

"Sorry, B," he says.

"Daniel Green?" Asks the bartender, a man in his sixties who's hair is nearly gone. "I haven't seen you in so long! And this girl—is she...?" Uncle nods, smiling.

"You're Bianca Green! I can't believe my eyes!" The bartender rushes towards me and shakes my hand. "You look so..." he stops, seeming frightened. "So much like your Uncle." He gives a nervous smile, still shaking my hand. I think he's a little over excited, this man.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say.

"Bianca Green thinks it's nice to meet me!" He looks overjoyed. "I'm shaking Bianca Green's hand! Oh, I might faint!" I laugh. _Will he stop squeezing my hand?_

"Barton, give the poor girl some space," says a woman sitting on one of the stools. "Daniel, I thought she was only ten this year. And isn't it a bit late to go to Diagon Alley?"

"She is, but her magic started acting up. She was a late entry. Well, we really don't have much time, got to go..." Uncle takes my hand and pulls me forward, bringing me to the back door.

"So good to meet you, Bianca," says the bartender, Mr. Barton. "I hope to see you again next year!"

When we step out the back door, all I see is a brick wall.

"What—" I begin to say, but Uncle shakes his head, and taps his wand on the wall three times. Slowly, the bricks began to separate, uncovering what I like to imagine is a whole other world.

"Welcome," Uncle says, "to Diagon Alley." The streets are full of odd-looking people in cloaks, their wands in their hands. Shops are everywhere. Far down, I see a few apartments at the end of the street.

"It's mostly a place for shopping," Uncle says. "But a few wizards prefer to live near their own kind. Now, first, we'll go to Gringotts...that's the bank—wizard bank, anyway."

"Why do we need to go to the bank?" I ask.

"Wizards don't use the same money as Muggles, Bianca. I'm not sending you off without any money. I've got quite a bit in the bank..." he brings me to an extravagant-looking building. It looks like it's been painted white several times, and there are pillars in the front. The door is huge, painted scarlet, with golden knobs.

Inside the building it is beautiful. I see pillars on every corner and desks where odd looking creatures are working.

"Gringotts is run by goblins," says Uncle. "They do the job well, though they're not very friendly." Still holding my hand, Uncle leads me to the largest desk, where a goblin is writing on yellowish parchment. Uncle clears his throat. The goblin looks up.

"Can I help you?" He asks in a dry voice, void of any emotion.

"I'm Daniel Green...need to look in my vault...here's the key." Uncle pulls a golden key out of his pocket, handing it to the goblin.

"Ah, yes—vault twenty-one, floor one," the goblin says. "I'll send someone out with you. Please proceed to the left wall." He calls for someone to help us. A goblin comes waddling out of the back room, a key ring in his hand. His face is yellowish white, his eyes large and brown, and he's around two-and-a-half feet tall.

"Come with me." He takes the king and puts in the ring, tottering to the left wall.

After we go through an archway in the left wall, we all get in a wooden cart, big enough to hold two more people. At first, I press myself against Uncle, frightened. Then, realizing the goblin might notice my fear, I pull away. I've never felt comfortable showing weakness in front of others.

The goblin starts the cart. It starts off a bit slow, and gets a burst of speed.

"We won't have to stay on the cart for long," Uncle says softly, putting an arm around me. "The vault's only on floor one." I nod, smiling halfheartedly.

I assumed that the underground part of Gringotts would be pretty and old-looking like the rest of the building. It is old-looking, but not even close to pretty. The walls are bumpy stone, and the floor is dirt. The tracks for the cart look old and rusty, but gives me the impression the metal was once quite beautiful.

The cart stops rather abruptly. I nearly fall face-first out of it. Uncle grabs my hand, smiling.

"Forgot to warn about the cart. Sorry," he smiles apologetically. I sigh.

"Please try to remember these things, Uncle," I say. He helps me get out. The goblin motions to the vault right in front of us.

"Vault twenty-one," he says, putting the key in the keyhole. "We've got a few pouches for the money in the cart, if you need them," he adds.

"Yes, thank you." Uncle says, grabbing one of the pouches. It's made of cheap brown cloth, but looks strong enough to hold the money. The vault opens, revealing golden and bronze coins.

"I'll fill the pouch up...that should be enough." Uncle says, scooping up the coins in his hands and shoving them in the pouch. "Well, that's all I need. Let's go back up."

_(Author's note: Chapter 3 is here! Yes, it ended before they did the really interesting stuff. I know it's awful of me, but the chapter would've been way too long. This week the update schedule will come into play. I'm going to update every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. If I can, I will update on Friday, too. If you forget, the schedule can be found on my page if you click my name. Thanks for reading and please review!_

_Flyerslilgirl.) _


	4. Diagon Alley

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except Bianca Green's Daniel Green's, Richard James', and Panda's characters.

IF SOMEBODY HAD TOLD ME THAT A WHOLE OTHER WORLD EXSISTED, LIVING JUST UNDER THE NOSE OF OUR OWN, I WOULD HAVE LAUGHED IN THEIR FACE. Even when Uncle first said I was a wizard, I still wasn't sure if it was real. And now, it still feels a bit like a dream—the best dream I've ever had. A dream that doesn't end, because it Is all REAL.Everything, Gringotts, goblins, wizards...it's all real, and I'm a part of it. This is the best I've ever felt.

As we exit Gringotts, Uncle points to a shop across the street with a sign that reads: MADAM MALKIN'S ROBES FOR ALL OCCASIONS.

"We can get your robes there, as you may have guessed." He says, pulling the list of items for school out of his pocket. "You didn't even think about the list, did you? Alright, so...three robes, one hat, protective gloves, and one winter coat."

In the shop there are hats, robes, cloaks, and coats on stands and shelves. The floor is light wood, and the walls a fading red. Madam Malkin is a rather plump woman, who is standing at her desk, seeming bored.

"Madam Malkin?" Uncle says.

"Hello, sir," says Madam Malkin, smiling. "What do you need? A new cloak, a new coat—?"

"The usual for Hogwarts. My niece here was a late entry." I walk towards the desk, feeling awkward.

"Oh? Well, come here, dear. I need to fit you for your robes. What are your names?"

"I'm Daniel Green," Uncle says, "and her name is Bianca Green."

"Bianca Green? Oh, I've always wanted to meet you, dear," Madam Malkin says. "Come back here, dear. I can fit you for your robes. Mr. Green, if you need help finding anything, please, ask away." Madam Malkin leads me back, behind her desk, where there are several mirrors. Madam Malkin slips a robe over my head. She begins to pin it to the right length. The wool is soft and hot. I hope Hogwarts is cool, because these robes seem awfully hot.

Madam Malkin pins two other robes to the right length.

"Done," she says, pulling the third robe off of me. "Have you picked out the things you need, Mr. Green?"

"Yes," says Uncle. "I've got everything right here. How much are the robes?"

"Six Galleons, three Sickles each," Madam Malkin goes back to her desk. "And the gloves are two Galleons, three Knuts, the hat is one Galleon, and the coat is four Galleons." She motions for Uncle to come forward. He hands her some golden and bronze coins.

"Thank you, Madam Malkin," I say.

"Thank _you,_ dear! I hope to see you again next year!"

Diagon Alley is a very busy, crowded, place. Uncle and I are nearly trampled as we walk to "Flourish and Blotts", where we can buy my school-books.

Flourish and Blotts, like Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, is empty. Uncle seems to want to get the shopping over with. He asks the owner of the shop where the school-books are, while I look at some more fascinating books. They all sound so _cool. The Greatest Revenge Schemes Ever Known to Wizards! Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying, Arm-Tying, and so much more! _I'm a little bit bothered by the idea of "arm-tying", though. Sounds awfully painful.

Uncle has to drag me away from the prank books. Next year, I am definitely buying some of these books. Next is the Apothecary, which smells of rotten eggs. There we buy a cauldron, potion ingredients, a set of scales for weighing the ingredients, and a collapsible brass telescope. And now I'm really excited. Next is Ollivanders. This is what I've been waiting for.

Ollivanders is a shabby little shop. The door rings as Uncle and I step inside. My heart is racing. What wand will I get? What will it feel like to have a wand? Will I like the wand I get?

"Mr. Green!" Says Ollivander. "Ebony, unicorn hair, rather flexible—good for transfiguration, yes?" I have no idea what he's talking about, but Uncle nods. "And I believe this Bianca? I wasn't expecting you for another year. Did your magic start acting up?" I nod. Ollivander turns, looking through the shelves, which are full of wand cases. He pulls out a case and opens it.

"Ebony, phoenix feather—here—give it a flick." He hands it to me. Feeling silly, I wave the wand in the air. Immediately, Ollivander takes it out of my hand.

"Maple, unicorn hair," I try this one out, too, but Ollivander snatches it back. Five wands later, I still haven't found the right one. Ollivander looks at the highest shelf, finding a golden case.

"Cherry, dragon heartstring, " he says, pulling the wand out of the case. The wand's wood is dark. All along the wandare swirls that get thinner towards the tip. Ollivander hands me the wand, looking anxious.

"Just give it a little swish," he says. I do. My hand begins to feel warm, and, as I raise the wand higher, fireworks begin to shoot out of it. Everything on Ollivander's desk begins to float. Uncle is clapping.

"Bravo! Lovely!" Ollivander cries. The objects on his desk come flying down from the air, crashing back to his scratched desk. He doesn't even seem to notice. "You know, that dragon heartstring in your wand is from a Great Gold, one of the rarest of their kind. Very picky, and rather temperamental, but deadly against opponents. Good wand you have there, Miss Bianca."

"Thank you, Ollivander," says Uncle. "Now...seven Galleons, right? Here you are..." he pulls a few golden coins out of his pocket and hands them to Ollivander.

When we leave Ollivanders, Uncle doesn't head towards the exit. Instead, he turns to the right.

"I've gotten everything, Uncle," I say.

"You haven't got your going-away present, have you?" Uncle asks. "There's a shop over here—pet shop. Cats, rats, and owls. I might be able to get you an enchanted one. Those are very...interesting."

Inside the pet shop there are cages everywhere. It's full of yowling cats, and occasionally a squeak from a rat or a hoot from an owl.

"Ahem," Uncle says. "Excuse me?"

"Hello, hello! My apologies, sir—I got a bit tired—couldn't stay awake. My sincere apologies." Says a man at the desk. His hair is a mess, and his robes are wrinkled. "Can I interest you in any of my enchanted pets? Got three at the moment...they're over there." He points to the corner of the shop. They all look pretty normal. One is a fluffy white cat, one a grayish-white owl, and the last is a ferret with black and white fur.

"What kind of enchantments did you put on them?" Uncle asks.

"The cat can turn into one of those smaller dragons—forget what they're called—the owl can transform into a bat, good for scaring people, and the ferret can turn into a rat. They'll all live longer lives than normal, too. Fifteen years or so..." he pauses. "No one wants the little ferret. He can't shift very well, you see, and kids want really good enchanted pets, like the cat." Frowning, I run a hand along the ferret's back.

"Can you make them change shape, or do they only do it on their own?" I ask.

"You can make them. Just say 'Shift' very clearly."

"Shift," I say. The cat immediately turns into a dragon the size of an eagle, with dark green scales and bat-like wings. The owl turns into a bat, flapping its wings. The ferret, on the other hand, seems to be having trouble. When he finally shifts, there's far to much fur on his tail.

"See? The enchantment must have gone awry."

"Uncle," I say. "Can I get the ferret? If no one takes him, I'll feel dreadful."

"If you want," Uncle says. "It's your present."

Walking out of the shop, I have the ferret on my shoulder. I also have a small cage, just barely large enough for him.

"You'll have to train him to shift better." Uncle says. "It'd be best that no one knows he's enchanted. Hogwarts doesn't really like enchanted pets. You remember that cat? Sure, it turns into a small dragon, but a dragon all the same."

We go back to the brick wall, and Uncle taps it three times. Entering the Leaky Cauldron, we go to the fireplace, to return home, back into the Muggle world.

_(Author's note: I'm so sorry this was late. Chapter 5 will also come out today, and I'll try to get Chapter 6 out tonight. I'm so sorry, guys. This won't happen again, promise! I'm going to stay true to the update schedule. Thanks for reading and please review!_

_Flyerslilgirl.)_


	5. Platform 9 and 34

DISCLIAMER: I own nothing except Daniel Green's, Bianca Green's, and Panda's characters.

IT'S SEPTEMBER FIRST. Hogwarts is starting today. I think I'm going to go insane! It's come so quickly! I can't believe it!

As I put on my clothes, I glance at my ferret's cage. I've named him Panda, because of his white and black fur. His cage is sitting on my dresser, and he's fast asleep. When he's awake, he's awfully playful, but when he's asleep, it's a waste of time to try to wake him.

Downstairs Uncle's prepared blueberry crapes for the both of us. He smiles as I come dashing down the stairs, nearly falling on my face.

"It seems that someone is excited." He says.

"Come on, Uncle," I reply. "Are you telling me you weren't excited on the first day of Hogwarts?"

"No," says Uncle, "but I didn't slip like that." He smirks. My pride weakened, I say meekly, "The floor here is slippery."

Throughout breakfast, I'm obsessively checking the clock. Eight, eighty-thirty, nine…is it just me, or is the needle ticking really slowly? Maybe it's already eleven o'clock, and we just don't know it!

When I'm done eating, I ask, "Have you called my school? Did you say I'm not going anymore?"

"Yes," says Uncle. "You aren't a student there anymore. Go get Panda and your suitcase, okay?"

I do as Uncle says. My suitcase is rather heavy, because of all the school-books. I've read a few chapters of all of them, and practiced some magic, liking lifting one of my books. The spell worked, though it was rather difficult.

I put Panda's cage on the counter and push my suitcase against the wall. Uncle is making a sandwhich.

"They only have candy on the train," he says. "I thought you might want a real lunch."

"Thanks," I say.

At ten o'clock, I ask Uncle,

"Shouldn't we leave? King's Cross is kind of far, isn't it?"

"Not the way we're going." Uncle says. "We're going to Apparate. It's like Floo Powder, except you don't need a fireplace or powder to do it." He grimaces. "It doesn't feel very good, but it'll be a lot quicker."

At ten-fifty, Uncle says we're going to Apparate. Frightened, I pick up my suitcase and Panda's cage.

"Hold my arm." Says Uncle. I obey, though I think I squeeze it to tightly, because he flinches.

"Have everything?" He asks.

"Y-yeah," I reply.

Everything disappears. I'm in pure blackness; I can't see, though I can still feel Uncle's arm. There's pain everywhere. My whole body is being squeezed and pushed and pulled.

Then, with a flash, we're in the corner of King's Cross. No one sees us.

"Uncle," I say, "next time, go more in depth than just saying 'it doesn't feel very good', alright?"

"I'll try," he replies.

The train station is very busy. Muggles are everywhere. Their voices are loud, blocking out every other noise. Uncle leads me to platform nine and ten. In between the platforms, it says: _Hogwarts Express, eleven-o'clock._

"Don't they see it? The writing, I mean," I ask Uncle, puzzled.

"No," he replies. "It's enchanted."

"So…how do we get in?" I ask.

"We run through the wall." Uncle replies. I stare at him for a moment, wondering if he really thought this wouldn't absultley terrify me.

"We're going to _run _through the wall?" I demand.

"Yes—calm down, it's not that bad. Just run in. I'll follow you. Don't worry, B." He pats my shoulder, smiling.

"You should really start warning me in advance about these things, Uncle."

I'll never admit it, but Uncle was right. In truth, walking through Platform nine-and-three-quarters wasn't bad at all. Weird, but not bad.

As soon as I'm through the wall, Uncle follows. Inside is a huge red train, tons of frantic parents, and a bunch of excited kids. Panda has woken in all the excitement, and he's holding onto the bars of the cage for dear life.

As we walk to the train, I notice a red-headed family of six, five children, and one woman.

"Mom, can't I go?"

"No, Ginny, you're to young—Ron, you've got Scabbers, right?" The woman seems overwhelmed and anxious. She hugs all of them tightly, kissing their foreheads.

"They're a Pure-blood family," says Uncle. When I give him a puzzled look, he continues. "A family of wizards with no Muggle blood in them. The woman's name is Molly, her husband's name is Arthur…he works for the Ministry of Magic, you know."

My heart is beating faster than it ever has. Faster than when I walked into Ollivanders with Uncle, faster than earlier today. I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to be away from Uncle for the first time in my life, and for once, I won't be considered odd. For once, I won't be the only one that can make weird things happen.

Uncle and I stand outside the door of the train.

"You be good, B. Don't do anything rash. Promise to send me letters every week, okay?" Uncle asks. He seems shaky. I hug him as tight as I can, knowing I won't hug him again until June.

"I'll send letters everyday if I can, Uncle." I say. "I love you."

"I love you too, B."

Shaking, I enter the train. The carpeting is red, and there are several compartments, all with glass doors. I search for empty compartments, and, not able to find any, I search for one that has room. I find a compartment where one the red-heads for outside of the train is sitting, along with a dark-haired boy.

I open the door of the compartment.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full." I say.

"Sure," says the red-head. "I'm Ron Weasley. What's your name?"

"Bianca Green," he stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head in disbelief.

"Bianca Green? You're Bianca Green? You're the Girl Who Lived?"

"That's what they call me?" I ask, sitting beside the dark-haired boy. "I had no idea…anyway, who are you?" I ask the other boy.

"Harry Potter," he replies. Shocked, I notice the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. So this is the boy who was with me that night?

"It's a pleasure to meet you both." I say, smiling. I shake both their hands.

The train begins to move. I look in the window, finding Uncle's face in the crowds. He's waving. I wave back, feeling tears threatening to spill. The red-headed girl from the family of six is running beside the train, half-laughing, half-crying. When the train picks up to much speed, she stops, waving. Ron waves back, smiling.

When the train's left the station, Ron decides to ask me a few questions.

"Can I see your scar? I heard it's on your arm."

"Sure," I say, pulling up my sleeve. He stares at it in awe. I've always thought the scar was quite cool, but I never stared at it the way he does. I think I'm more famous than I realized.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," I say. Turning to Harry, I ask, "Does yours ever hurt?"

"No," he replies. "It's a little tingly sometimes, though."

At twelve-thirty, a woman comes, pushing a cart with a bunch of candy on it. She opens the door and asks, "Anything off the cart, dears?" Ron shrugs, showing her the sandwiches beside him.

"I've got these…" Harry, on the other hand, leaps up.

"Get me…er…a bag of those beans and a frog." I say. "I'll pay you back." He nods. Harry ends up taking a bit of everything. He comes back, his arms full of candy, and sits down beside me.

"Hungry, are you?" Ron asks.

"Starving," Harry replies, "here you go." He hands me a bag of what I previously believed were jelly beans, and a chocolate frog. Ron starts to unwrap his sandwiches. He groans as they fall out.

"She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one these," says Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on—"

"You don't want this, it's dry," Ron says. "She hasn't got much time," he adds quickly, "with the five of us."

"Go on, have one! Don't worry about it!" Harry says. I begin to search through my money pouch.

"How much were the beans and the frog?"

"Don't worry about that." Harry says. "You can have more, if you want." Surprised, I nod.

"Thank you," I say. "It's very generous of you."

"Don't mention it."

When I open the chocolate frog's packaging, I find that it actually _moves. _

"Is it _alive?" _I ask.

"Nah," Ron says. "Just enchanted. It'll stop moving after a while; then you can eat it. What card did you get? They all have cards in them…"

"I'll check," I say.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times,

Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of

dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the

twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy

with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore

enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

There was a picture of a man with long silver hair, a beard, blue eyes, and half-moon glasses.

"Albus Dumbledore," I say. "He's the headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"You haven't heard of Dumbledore?" Ron demands. "He's probably the most famous wizard of all time!"

"Oh! I remember seeing his name on my letter!" I say.

"Yeah," Ron says, staring at the chocolate frogs.

"Help yourself," say Harry. "My card's got Dumbledore on it, too." He tells me.

"Cool…so, Ron…what are these beans? I've never heard of 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans'. Are they like jelly beans?"

"I've never heard of 'jelly beans'," Ron says, "but they're good. Some of them, anyway; when it says ever flavor, it means_ every_ flavor." He picks up a green bean and bites the corner. "Blah—see? Sprouts." Ron groans.

"Oh," I say. "Sounds…er…interesting." I begin to eat them. I get quite a few flavors. Coconut, mashed potatoes and gravy, blueberry, peppermint, and dirt.

A small boy peeks his head into the compartment.

"Have you seen a toad?" He asks. We all shake our heads. "I've lost him! Oh, Gran will kill me!"

"He'll turn up," says Harry.

"I'm sure he's on the train somewhere." I add.

"Yeah…" the boy says miserably. "Well, if you find him…" he left.

"Don't know he's so bothered," Ron says, "if I got a toad, I'd loose him as soon as I could. But, then again, I've got Scabbers, so I can't talk." I notice the black rat snoozing on Ron's lap. He glances at Panda. "You've got a rat, too?"

"Er…can you two keep a secret?" I ask. They both nod. "He's enchanted; he can turn into a ferret. Panda, shift!" I say. He obeys. He's improved some since I got him, but his tail still has to much fur on it.

"That's cool!" Ron says. "I wish Scabbers could do that!"

"I'd say one of your parents could put an enchantment on him." I say.

"Maybe," he says. "I tried to use a spell to turn him yellow last week. Look…" he opened his suitcase and pulled his wand out. It was scratched and chipped, with a white hair sticking out at the end.

"Unicorn hair's poking out," he says. "Anyway…" the compartment door opens again. A girl was standing in the hallway, already in her Hogwarts robes.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one." She says. She had a rather bossy voice, very bushy brown hair, and large front teeth.

"No, we haven't," I say.

"Oh," she notices Ron's wand. "Are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

"Er…alright," he clears his throat.

"_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

_Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"_

Ron waves wand, but nothing happens.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few myself—for practice, of course—and they've all worked for me. No one's magical in my family, so it was a surprise when I got my letter. I was so pleased, of course—well, anyway, I'm Hermione Granger; what are your names?" The girl, Hermione, says this all very fast.

"I'm Ronald Weasley," says Ron.

"Harry Potter," Harry says.

"And I'm Bianca Green." I add.

"Really? I've read all about you both! I found some history books—thought it would all be good to research the wizarding world—and you two are in them all!" Hermione says.

"Really? I had no idea," I say.

"Goodness, you don't know? I would've found out everything if it was me. Anyway, do you know house you'll all be in? I'm thinking I'll be in Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw—they both sound nice…anyway, I'd better help Neville look for his toad. You three should change into your robes. I expect we'll be there soon." She turned and left.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." Ron says.

"What are 'houses', exactly?" I ask.

"You don't know about them? There's four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. All my family was in Gryffindor—I suppose Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn't be to bad, but imagine being put in Slytherin!" He shakes his head.

"Was that the house Voldemort was in?" I ask.

"_You said his name!" _Ron exclaims, astounded.

"Of course I did." I say. "What else would I call him?"

"You're uncle didn't tell you? Call him You-Know-Who!"

"Nonsense," I say. "It's just a name. Anyway, was that the house he was in?"

"Yeah," Ron says, still looking frightened. "And all of the people on his side, I bet."

We all change into our robes. Once we're changed, I take Panda out of his cage and put him on my shoulder.

"Wish I had a pet as cool as him." Ron mumbles.

"I'll try to find out how to enchant animals, okay? I'm sure one of your parents could enchant Scabbers, if you asked."

For the fourth time, somebody opens our door. I hold in a groan.

"There was a rumor that Harry Potter and Bianca Green are in this compartment. Is it true?" Asks a pale, blonde boy. There are two other boys behind him, both chubby and mean-looking.

"Yes," I say, "it's true. Can we help you with anything?" Something about this boy annoys me.

"Just wanted to introduce ourselves." The pale boy says. "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle, and my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Ron snorted.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy sneers. "No need to ask your name. Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes. You're a Weasley." He seems rather disgusted with Ron. Malfoy turns to Harry and I. "You two don't want to make friends with the wrong sort, do you? I can help you there." Malfoy holds out his hand.

"I think we can figure out who's bad and who's not, thanks," says Harry. Malfoy seems shocked.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter." Malfoy looks to me. "And what about you?"

"Will you leave us alone?" I ask. "Can't you tell when you're not wanted?" Furious, Malfoy glares at me.

"You want to fight, Green?" He asks.

"I'd love to," I reply. "But can we wait until the train stops? Fighting in a compartment would be very confusing." Malfoy gives one final glare towards Harry and I before he turns and leaves. Smiling, I lean back in my seat.

"I believe," Harry says, "we just made an enemy."

"At least things will be interesting at Hogwarts." I smirk.

Hermione Granger comes back to our compartment.

"Just making sure none of you weren't one of the people running up and down the corridors." She says, and notices Panda. "I don't think you can have ferrets at Hogwarts."

"Um…he's enchanted." I say. "He can turn into a rat. Please don't tell anyone." She huffs, and leaves the compartment.

A few minutes later, I can hear the conductor's voice.

"We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to school separately." I put a few boxes of beans and chocolate frogs in my pocket. The nerves I had earlier today come again. What will Hogwarts be like? Uncle's said it's a castle, but how big will it be? What will the teachers be like? What will Dumbledore be like?

The train begins to slow. It stops. My heart is racing. We're here—we're at Hogwarts!

"Firs' years! Firs' years!" A gigantic man with a long dark hair and beard is chanting outside of the train.

"That's Hagrid," Harry whispers in my ear as we leave the compartment. "He's the gamekeeper, and he's really nice."

"Oh," I say. "He's rather scary looking." Harry laughs.

"He wouldn't hurt a fly."

Everyone goes out into the corridor. Harry's behind me, and Ron's in front. The corridor ends, and we step out of the train's door, onto a gray platform.

_(Author's note: I know. I broke my promise. I'm so, so, sorry! I'll try to get chapter 6 out right after this one, okay? My week has been really busy. I'll get back on schedule on Friday, because I can write tons of chapters. I'm so sorry guys!_

_Now that I've said that, I have a few other things to address._

_ONE: I've changed the chocolate frogs a bit. In the book, they're shaped like frogs and don't move, and the wizard eats them. In the movie, they move and can't be eaten. So I mixed these two versions together._

_TWO: Bianca may seem a bit Mary Sueish. For those of you who don't know what a Mary Sue is, a Mary Sue is a character with no flaws. In the next few chapters, I will attempt to make her flaws very apparent._

_Well, that's it. Thanks for reading and please review,_

_Flyerslilgirl.) _


	6. The Sorting Hat Ceremony

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except Bianca Green's and Panda's characters.

"C'MON, FOLLOW ME—ANY MORE FIRS' YEARS? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years, follow me!" Hagrid calls. He's holding a torch, lighting the area. We all follow him, most of us tired and sluggish. Harry nudges me.

"What do you think Hogwarts will be like?" He asks.

"Huge, I bet," I reply. "My uncle said it was a castle, but he didn't go into detail. I wonder how many children live there every year?" Harry shrugs.

"A lot, probably…" he says.

We're walking down a narrow path. It's so dark along the sides that I think it must be surrounded by trees. Panda, who is back in his cage and in his rat form, is sniffing the air, seeming nervous.

"Yeh'll see 'Ogwarts in a sec," Hagrid says. "Jus' round the bend, there." Children begin to whisper in excitement.

The narrow path suddenly opens into a great, black lake. Just across the lake, atop a mountain, stands a gigantic castle, with many towers and turrets.

"No more'n four on a boat!" Hagrid says, motioning to several small boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron, and I all get in one, followed by Hermione.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid asks. He had his own boat, which was significantly larger than everyone else's. "Right—FORWARD!" He bellows. All of the boats begin to move, first slow, then fast.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yells. I look down, noticing the cracks in the wood of the boat. This thing's safe, right? The headmaster wouldn't send first years out in dangerous boats, would he?

The boats stop just outside the castle. Hagrid gets out first and checks each boat.

"You there," he says, turning to the boy I believe is called Neville. In his hand is a squirming toad. "This yer toad?"

"Trevor!" Neville yells, running toward Hagrid to retrieve the toad.

We walk up a flight of stone steps and gather around a huge, oak, door.

"Everyone 'ere? Still got yer toad?" Hagrid raises a giant fist, and knocks three times on the castle door.

A stern looking woman with emerald robes and black hair pulled into a tight bun is waiting for us.

"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall," says Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She opens another large door. The entrance hall is huge. We go up a staircase, moving higher into the castle. Everything is lit by flaming torches that give off a warm, comforting light.

Professor McGonagall stops in an empty room.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she says. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. Before the banquet begins, however, you will be sorted into your houses. This is a very important ceremony, because your house will become something like your family here at Hogwarts. You will eat with them, sleep in your dormitory together, and spend your free time together in your common room.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Each house chooses students for certain qualities they may posses, and each have produced talented wizards. There is a point system for the houses. If you do good things for your house, you will be awarded points. If you misbehave, you will loose points. Whichever house has the most points at the end of the year will be given the house cup, which is a tremendous honor. I hope all of you will win points for your house."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes. Prepare yourselves, and please wait quietly. I will return in a few moments." She turns and leaves.

Ron mumbles something about the Sorting Ceremony being a test. I groan. I know a few spells, and I've practiced a bit, but this seems unfair. It's not as if we were told to read the books before we got here. What if I can't do it?

I gasp, along with several others, as ghosts come walking through the wall.

"I'm fed up with Peeves, Friar." One says. "He gives us a bad name—makes people think that all ghosts just want to make fun of people. What are you all doing here?" The ghosts turn to us. No one answers. I try to speak, but I can't find the right words.

"Oh! New students, about to be sorted, yes?" One of them asks. A few of us nod.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," says the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along! The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin!" Professor McGonagall has returned. The ghosts, who seem annoyed, leave the room by floating through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line, and follow me into the Great Hall." Professor McGonagall tells us. I walk behind Harry and Ron. I feel faint.

I never imagined a room could be as beautiful as the Great Hall. Four long tables, all with hundreds of students sitting at them, golden goblets and plates, and, best of all, the ceiling, which didn't look like a ceiling at all. It looked exactly like the night sky. Candles are floating below this ceiling, if it really is a ceiling. They light the whole room.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History."_ Hermione whispers.

At the front of the room, the teachers and the headmaster are sitting at a table on a raised platform. Professor McGonagall places a stool at the front of the room, and places a wizard's hat on it. The hat is dirty and old-looking.

Everyone stares at the hat. It is still, and the room is silent. Then, all of a sudden, the hat gives a twitch and begins to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me!_

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all!_

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be!_

_You might belong to Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set the Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you're a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm the Thinking Cap!"_

So we're trying on a hat? That sounds…surprisingly easy.

"I'll kill Fred! He was talking about fighting a troll." Ron growls. "All we have to do is try on the hat!" Harry smiles weakly. I put my arm around his shoulder.

"Don't worry," I say. "I bet we'll be in the same house."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long list.

"First, I will call your name, and you will sit on the stool to be sorted." She says. "Abbot, Hannah!" A nervous, pink-faced, girl comes out of the crowd. McGonagall puts the hat on the girl's face. There's a pause.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat screams. One of the tables in the middle breaks out in cheers. The ghost I saw earlier today, Friar, waves to Hannah.

"Bones, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" The other table in the middle claps and whistles.

"Brown, Lavender" then becomes the first Gryffindor. The table to the right begins to cheer and scream. Two twins, who look similar to Ron, begin cat-calling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" is the first Slytherin. "Finch-Fletchley, Justin" becomes a Hufflepuff. "Finnigan, Seamus" takes a while before he be becomes a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" They're in G now—I could be next. Oh, dear…

Hermione runs to the stool and eagerly puts the hat on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" It yells. Ron groans.

"Green, Bianca!" As soon as McGonagall calls my name, the hall breaks out in whispers.

"_The _Bianca Green?"

"Is it really her?"

"It's Bianca Green!"

Nervously, I walk up and sit on the stool and put the hat on my head. All I can see is the black material it's made out of.

"Ah…yes…" says a soft voice in my ear. "I see, I see…a hunger for glory…brave…cunning, and intelligent." The voice seems exhausted. "But where do I put you?" I'm hearing voices. This isn't good.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm the Sorting Hat—you're not insane." The voice laughs. "But you are difficult. Even more difficult than your father. How about…yes, I have decided, I think." He waits for a moment. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat screams. Smiling, I jump off the stool and run to the Gryffindor table. The twins are cheering, "We got Green, we got Green!"

I sit down beside Hermione Granger, across from the twins.

"You're Ron's brothers, right?" I ask them.

"Yeah," they say in unison. "I'm Fred—"

"And I'm George." I think Fred is on the right, and George is on the left. I should draw a circle on one of them.

"Bianca Green," I say. "Pleased to meet you."

Harry's name is called. He looks to the table, finding my face in the crowd. I smile at him. He sits on the stool, putting on the hat. It takes a few moments before the hat yells, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry runs to the table. He sits beside me, shaking a little.

"Told you we'd be in the same house." I say. "I really should've bet some money on that."

Ron is called, and made a Gryffindor. Then, after Blaise Zabini is made a Slytherin, McGonagall rolls up her list and takes away the Sorting hat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry hungrily eyeing his plate.

Dumbledore gets to his feet and beams at us.

"Welcome!" He says. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"That is all." All of sudden, bowls and platters are filled with food. All the goblets now have liquid in them. The tables are clapping and cheering. I laugh, wondering if Dumbledore is mentally stable.

"Is he—a bit mad?" Harry asks another one of the red-heads I saw with Ron.

"Mad? He's a genius! Most brilliant wizard of all time! But yes, he may be a bit mad. Potatoes, Harry?"

I put some steak, sausage, boiled potatoes, and—simply because I could—a few peppermint humbugs on my plate. All of the food is absolutely delicious.

I notice a ghost standing beside us, watching us eat.

"That does look good." He says sadly.

"Can't you—?" Harry begins to ask.

"No, I haven't eaten in nearly four hundred years. I don't need to, of course, but I do miss it. I suppose I haven't introduced myself, have I? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—Popington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" Says Ron, who has taken a seat beside Harry. "My brothers told me about you—you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer _you call me Sir Nicholas Mimsy—" the ghost begins, but Seamus Finnigan interrupts him.

"N_early _Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?" Sir Nicholas looks very annoyed with Seamus. I don't think he planned for the conversation to go like this.

"Like _this," _he growls. The ghost grabs his left ear and pulls. His head falls onto his shoulder, as if it was held on by a string. Having vomited a little in my mouth, I take a few sips of whatevers in my goblet. I haven't tasted it before. It's sweet and sticky.

"What's in the goblets?" I ask Fred.

"Pumpkin Juice," he replies. I nod, taking another sip.

I'm silent, listening to every speak, until I'm directly addressed.

"Bianca? You live with your uncle, right?" Asks Seamus Finnigan.

"Yeah," I reply. "I had no idea I was a wizard, though. He didn't tell me until I got my Hogwarts letter."

Dumbledore steps back up.

"I just need to say a few more words before you are all sent to bed.

"First years, know that the forbidden forest is off-limits. Older students should remember this as well." I swear I saw Dumbledore glance at Fred and George.

"I have been asked to remind you all that magic is not allowed to be used in the corridors, dorm rooms, or common rooms.

"Quidditch trials will be held the second week of the term. Anyone interested in applying, speak to Madam Hooch. Know that first years are not allowed to play on Quidditch teams.

"And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry and I are some of the few who laugh.

"Is he serious?" Harry asks the red-head he was speaking to earlier.

"Must be," the red-head says. "It's odd, because he normally gives a reason as to why we can't go somewhere. Everyone knows that the forbidden forest is full of horrible, killer, creatures. I would think that Dumbledore would tell us Prefects, at least…"

Dumbledore begins to sing the school song and everyone joins in. I follow along, though I make the occasional mistake here and there.

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald,_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling,_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now we are bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains rot!"_

The twins are the final ones singing. Dumbledore conducts the last lines with his wand, and claps louder than everyone. He wipes his eyes.

"Ah, music!" He cries. "A magic beyond all that we conjure. Now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

_(Author's note: Well, this was a long chapter. You may have noticed it's not very different the first chapter at Hogwarts in _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's stone._ The rest of the story won't—for the most part—be like that. Well, that is all. Thanks for reading and please review,_

_Flyerslilgirl.)_

_PS: I've hit the 300 views mark, and it's all because of you guys! Thanks! You guys are awesome!_


	7. Professor Snape the Potions Master

WE ALL FOLLOW THE RED-HEAD PREFECT, WHO I REALIZE IS CALLED PERCY, UP A MARBLE STAIRCASE. Full of food, and quite tired, I just hope the Gryffindor common room isn't far. I stare at the floor, bored, and not paying attention. When we come to a sudden halt, I walk right into Harry.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"It's f-f-f-fine..." he says, mid-yawn.

I notice there are a bunch of walking sticks, floating in the air. Percy walks towards them, and they begin to throw themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy growls. "A poltergeist," he adds. "Peeves—show yourself!" There's a loud noise, which sounds similar to air being squeaking out of a balloon, as an answer.

"Do you want me to speak with the Bloody Baron?" Percy demands. There's a loud popping noise, and a man appears, with dark eyes, and a wide mouth, sitting cross-legged in the air.

"Oooh!" He says. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swoops at us, laughing.

"Move along, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this! I mean it!" Peeves sticks out his tongue and glares at us before he disappears, dropping a walking stick on Neville's head.

"Watch out for Peeves," says Percy. "The only one that can control him is the Bloody Baron—the Slytherin ghost. He doesn't even listen to us Prefects—here we are." At the end of the corridor is a picture of a fat lady in a fluffy pink dress.

"Password?" She asks.

"Caput Draconis," says Percy. The portrait swings forward, revealing a hole in the wall. We step through, finding ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a room full of red leather couches, chess tables, armchairs and a fireplace.

"Girls to the left—boys to the right. I'll be up there in a moment to check on you all." I sigh, and wave to Harry and Ron as they run up the left staircase.

"Night, boys," I say.

"G'night, Bianca," Harry replies sleepily.

I follow Hermione Granger up to our room. It has five bunk-beds, all with trunks at the back, red walls, and two doors with ROOM 2 over the right door and ROOM 3 over the left. I hear a crash and a yelp. That sounded painful.

"Those stupid fourth-years—I'll kill them when I get my hands on them, rigging the doorway..." Percy comes in. I can a see bruise beginning on his cheek. "Alright, well...are you all alright? Good, good; well, spread out between this room, room two, and room five. Goodnight!" Percy leaves the room.

I manage to get a bunk in room one. It's the top bunk on the left side of the room. Below me is Hermione Granger. I sit Panda down beside the bed.

"He won't make any noise, promise." I say as I climb up the ladder.

"Alright," Hermione says. "Goodnight."

"Night, Hermione."

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with red hair!"

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see their faces?"

"Did you see his scar? What about hers?"

The kids here definitely know who Harry and I are. They whisper about us. Sometimes, I swear that they're _following _us, the creepy little buggers. And then when I notice them, they run off, giggling like fools. Honestly, if you want to worship me, do it directly. And it wouldn't hurt to make me a sandwich, either...

The ghosts here are annoying. Nearly Headless Nick is fine, for the most part; he helps us first years get around the castle. Peeves, on the other hand, lives to frighten us and get us all in detention. He particularly enjoys scaring the smaller, shy, first years. Poor kids never see Peeves coming.

We have a good amount of classes. Herbology is all about special wizard plants. If they were man-eating, growling, plants, I might enjoy this class. But it's just about taking care of the plants. Honestly, why do I need to learn about gardening?

History of Magic nearly puts me to sleep. Professor Binns is a ghost, and possibly the most boring ghost I have come across so far.

Charms is a relatively interesting subject. Professor Flitwick is kind of annoying, because of his high voice and his odd obsession with Harry and I.

Professor McGonagall is a stern teacher. She teaches Transfiguration. In her class, she asked us to turn matches into needles. I manage to get mine a bit silvery, and Hermione's becomes pointy.

Defense Against the Dark Arts sounded really cool to me. Then I met Professor Quirrel. He stutters and his classroom smells of garlic. The man has an awful phobia of vampires.

On Friday, I run down to the Great Hall. Ron and Harry are sitting at the Gryffindor table, talking about the upcoming classes.

"What do we have today?" I ask, sitting down.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," there's a certain venom in Ron's voice when he talks about Slytherins. "The teacher is the head of Slytherin. My brothers say he favors them. We'll get to see if he does, I guess."

"I wish McGonagall favored us." Harry groans. Professor McGonagall is the head of Gryffindor, but she doesn't favor us at all.

"At least she's a good teacher." I say. "She's not Professor Binns, or Professor Quirrel."

Then the mail comes. Hundreds of owls fly into the room. It was a bit of a shock at first, but I've gotten used to the owls now. A brown owl lands in front of me, and holds out her leg. I take the letter and open it, recognizing Uncle's handwriting.

_Dear Bianca,_

_How's school going? It worries me that you're so far away. Have you made friends? I hope you're doing well, and the kids aren't bothering you. You know, the teachers sent me a letter saying you were in Gryffindor. I'm very glad—I was in that house, too, you know. Don't be surprised if Slytherins aren't that kind. The two houses are rivals. Anyway, please write back as soon as you can._

_Sincerely,_

_Uncle_

I decide to write him back later, and head to Potions with Ron and Harry.

The classroom is dark and cold. It's in one of the dungeons, and, if that wasn't creepy enough, there are pickled animals in jars.

When Professor Snape sees Harry and I, he pauses.

"Potter and Green," he sneers. "Our new _celebrities."_ Well, I can tell this man doesn't like me.

"Professor Snape, our new slimy fool." I whisper in Harry's ear.

"Say that any louder and you'll get us detention." He scowls. I roll my eyes.

Harry chooses to sit with Ron, so I take a seat beside a Slytherin boy. Professor Snape goes on about how we're going to learn about "the great art" of Potion-making, and that he hopes we aren't dunderheads. I must say, this man is annoying.

"Potter!" He says suddenly. "What do I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry looks around dumbly, while Hermione's hand shoots into the air.

"Green, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" I look up, feeling embarrassed. Hermione stands up, her hand still high.

"I don't know." I say.

"Tut, tut...fame clearly isn't everything." Malfoy and his friends—or his bodyguards, as I prefer to call them—begin to laugh. I feel my blood boil. How dare he embarrass me in front of everyone? I've read a few chapters of the Potion book, and it hadn't mentioned wolfsbane yet! It's not my fault I didn't know to read the whole book.

"No, but at least I'm not a slimy fool." I say. The classroom is dead silent. Oh no...

"Excuse me, Green?" Professor Snape snaps, walking to my desk. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and detention in my office tonight."

The class doesn't go well for a lot of people. Neville's cauldron melts, and he breaks out in blisters when his potion touches him.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarls. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him to the Hospital Wing, Finnigan." Harry and Ron, who are sitting beside Neville, loose a point for Gryffindor, because they didn't warn Neville about the quills. I think, rather bitterly, that Harry wouldn't have lost points if he had sat beside _me._

My first introduction to Slytherins was not a good one. However, the boy I sit next, Liam, is nothing like Draco Malfoy. He's actually pretty nice, and he's really good at potions.

"Be careful about bubbling," he says. "Unless it says in the book that it's supposed to bubble, a potion shouldn't be bubbling."

"Thanks," I reply. "You're pretty good at this. Are your parents wizards?"

"Yeah," he says. "My dad really likes potions, so he taught me about them, and their ingredients."

As we're leaving class, Liam asks me, "Do you want to sit at the Slytherin table at dinner?"

"Sure," I say. "I'll see you at dinner." And with that, I left the class.

_(Author's note: And chapter 7 is up! Sorry I couldn't update on Friday. I was dragged out of the house, and couldn't write. Now, I would like to directly address two people:_

_A. Jennings: Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm so glad you like the story! It means so much to me!_

_Moon Lantern: Thank you for reviewing! I've worried about Bianca becoming a Mary Sue, or a female version of Harry...or both. Because I've noticed that one of the biggest flaws in fan-fiction are the Mary Sues. Hopefully, I can make Bianca a flawed character, who isn't the female version of Harry...and making her part of the storyline at the same time. It is a kind of difficult idea for my first fan-fiction, but, hey, why not start with a bang? Thank you again for reviewing, and showing an interest in my story. I'll make sure to try out some of your stories!_

_Well, that's it. Thanks for reading and please review,_

_Flyerslilgirl.) _


	8. Detention With the Potions Master

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except the characters of Bianca Green, Liam Gray, Alice Gray, Alexander Locket, and May Williams.

AT SIX O'CLOCK, I RUN DOWN TO THE GREAT HALL. I briefly consider telling Harry and Ron I'm sitting with the Slytherins, but, for some reason, the very thought of them annoys me.

Liam is waiting at the corner of the table. I sit beside him.

"Hey," I say.

"Hi," he replies. "Bianca, this is my sister, Alice. Alice, this is Bianca Green; she's in my Potions class." Liam motions to a brown-haired, gray-eyed girl sitting across from us.

"Hello," says Alice. "You're in Gryffindor, right?" I nod, smiling.

As we begin eating, Liam asks, "Do you know when you have detention with Snape?"

"I forgot to ask. I'm sure he'll send for me." Liam scowls.

"Be careful," he says. "Alice says Professor Snape is pretty devious. He might not send for you, and then punish you for being late." I frown.

"I'll try to remember that," I say.

Alice points out two Slytherins I should avoid: Alexander Locket and May Williams.

"Why?" I ask.

"They've been talking about you since the start of the year," says Alice. "How, if they were friends with you, they would get some of your fame...I'm not sure if they mean much harm, but you ought to avoid them." She takes a sip of pumpkin juice. "They're second years, never done much harm, but they've always been rather unkind.

"Right, Alexander and May," I say. "Gottcha."

Dinner is relatively boring. Liam tells me about a game called Quidditch, which wizards play on brooms. It sounds kind of like soccer in the air. Alice shows me _The Daily Prophet, _which is a newspaper for magical events. She also tells me about the _Quibbler, _another newspaper, which she's been told is full of rubbish.

A small boy comes running up to us.

"Bianca Green?" He asks.

"Yes?" I say.

"Professor Snape wanted me to tell you that he wants you at eight o'clock." Without another word, the boy runs off, going to the Hufflepuff table.

Liam seems surprised.

"Well, he didn't trick you," he says.

"Good," I say. "If he did, I'd have to tell Uncle...speaking of which, I have to write him after dinner."

When I'm full, I say goodbye to Liam and Alice, and I stop by the Gryffindor table. Ron stares at me, astounded, before he chokes, "You were sitting with the enemy!"

"The _enemy?" _I demand. "They're—they're my friends!"

"Friends? They're Slytherins!" Ron argues. I look to Harry.

"And what about you?" He stares at me dumbly for a moment.

"Um...er..." he looks back and forth between Ron I. I laugh, and, before leaving, I tell Ron, "You're just as narrow-minded as Draco Malfoy, you know that?"

When I get to the girls' dormitories, I sit down on my bunk. I grab a book, parchment, and a pencil, not bothering with quills and ink. I press the paper against the book and write,

_Dear Uncle,_

_Don't worry! School's going fine. I've been hanging out with Harry Potter, and I actually made friends with some Slytherins. I understand that there are a few mean Slytherins, but it seems like some Gryffindors hate the entire house! People confuse me sometimes. Anyway, how are you? Are you doing okay? How's work? I hope you're well! _

_Love, _

_Bianca_

Finishing up the letter, I pull an envelope out of my bag and seal it up. I'll have to ask Snape about sending mail...

At seven forty-five, I head for the dungeons. I decided to head out early, just in case I got lost. I end up getting there early, around seven fifty-five. Professor Snape is at his desk, waiting.

"Green," he sneers.

"Sir," I contain my urge to call him a slimy, good-for-nothing, fool.

"You will be writing lines," he says, "for half-an-hour."

"Alright, sir," I reply. "What will I be writing?"

"'I must not insult my Professors' will do."

Detention isn't very bad. Snape doesn't torture me or anything. And, when I rise with the paper in my hand, I feel like my anger towards Snape is gone. He's still a slimy fool, though.

"Here you go, sir." I surprise myself when I add, "I'm...sorry." I don't get much of a reaction from him, but he seems pleased enough with me.

"You may go," he says.

"Before I leave, sir, I wanted to ask...how do I send mail, exactly?"

"The Owlery, at the top of the West Tower has owls for you to use." I nod, and head for the the girls' dormitories.

After grabbing my letter, I go to the West Tower. It's cold up here. The windows have no glass covering them. By the window, I see Alice, an owl sitting on her finger.

"Hey, Alice," I say.

"Oh, hi, Bianca." She says.

"Um...can I have some help? I'm not sure how—"

"Go get an owl with a silver band on their talon. They normally hold the letter in their mouth, so just hold it out for them. Then carry them to the window, and let them out." Alice tells me, releasing the owl she was holding.

"How do they know where to go?" I ask.

"No one really knows," she shrugs. "I've always thought they might be more magical than we think."

I follow Alice's orders, and let the brown barn owl I chose fly off.

"Are you sure she'll get there?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she smiles at me.

After I do my homework assignments, I head to the girls' dormitories. Hermione is sitting on the bunk below my own, reading a book called _Quidditch Through the Ages._

"We're having Quidditch lessons tomorrow." She says. "Just thought you should know."

"Oh, thanks," I say. "It sounds fun. To bad first-years can't join their house team."

"I don't think I'll like it very much." Hermione says. "It sounds frightening, and like a waste of time. I bet all the players are behind on schoolwork!" I laugh, giving Panda some food and climbing up the ladder to my own bunk.

"If you say so, Hermione." I faintly hear her say goodnight, but as soon I close my eyes, I'm asleep.

_(Author's note: Sorry I haven't been updating on schedule! I've been pretty busy these past few days. Well, anyway, I've got two things I want to talk about today._

_One: I've got a poll on my page! The question is: "Taking into account the few hints you've been given, who do you think is Bianca's father?" If you have the time, please vote! You just need to scroll to the top of the chapter and click on my name. The poll is at the very top of my page, so it shouldn't be to hard to find. You just have to click on "vote now" and the options will come up._

_Two: Do you guys like Bianca so far? Just curious!_

_Well, that's all. Thank you for reading and please review,_

_Flyerslilgirl.) _


	9. Flying Lessons

DESCRIPTION: I own nothing except the characters of Bianca Green, Panda, and Daniel Green.

AT SEVEN O'CLOCK, I WAKE UP. Hermione's bed is empty, but the others are still asleep. I get dressed and head to the Great Hall.

I sit down at the Gryffindor table, beside Hermione.

"Hey," I say, putting two pancakes on my plate.

"Hello," she replies, "have you been enjoying school so far?"

"It's been brilliant," I say.

"Are you nervous about Quidditch?" Hermione takes a bite of her pancakes. "I've looked through as many books as possible, but they only give flying tips and such. It wasn't very helpful."

"I've never flown," I say, "so I am quite nervous."

The owls come flying in. The owl I sent to Uncle isn't among them.

A small owl lands in front of Neville Longbottom, the boy who lost his toad on the train. Neville takes the package it was carrying, and unwraps it. A clear ball falls out.

"A Rememberball!" He exclaims. "Gran knows I forget things—this tells you what you've forgotten—oh..." he frowns as the ball turns scarlet. A deep voice comes from the Rememberball, "You've forgotten something..."

Neville is trying to remember what he forgot when Draco Malfoy comes to our table and snatches the ball from his hand. Harry and Ron leap up, while I slowly move up from my chair.

"What's going on?" Professor McGonagall demands from the teachers' table at the head of the room.

"Malfoy's got Neville's Rememberball, Professor," I say. With a scowl, Malfoy drops the Rememberball.

"Just looking," he says, and walks away with Crabbe and Goyle.

After a few classes, I, along with other Gryffindors and Slytherins, hurry outside onto the grounds. It's a clear, breezy day. There are about one-hundred broomsticks laying on the ground. Our teacher, Madam Hooch, is waiting for us. She has short gray hair and yellow eyes, like a hawk's.

"Well? What's everyone waiting for? Go stand by a broomstick!" We all run to a broomstick. Hermione is at my right, and Neville at my left.

"Stick your hands out and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch says. Everyone shouts "UP!". My broomstick lifts a little off the ground, Hermione's rolls about, and Neville's doesn't move. To the right, I see that Harry's broom is in his hand. Angry, I repeat "UP!" and the broom shoots up, nearly knocking me down. After a few more "UP!"s, everyone has a broom in their hand.

Madam Hooch shows us how to climb onto a broom without falling off the end. I find it very funny that she tells Draco Malfoy he's been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, I want you all to push on the ground—hard." Madam Hooch pauses. "One—two—three—" but she doesn't finish. Neville, who's been shaking ever since he got on his broom, pushes off before Madam Hooch blows her whistle.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch yells, but Neville is rising high in the air. He's at least twenty feet in the air when he gasps, and slides off the broom. There's an awful crack, a thud, and Neville's on the ground. His broomstick is still rising, and now it's going towards the left, towards the Forbidden Forest.

Madam Hooch runs to Neville and leans over him.

"Broken wrist," she mutters. "Come on, boy—got to get you to the hospital wing." She helps Neville and then, turning to us, Madam Hooch says, "None of you are to move while I'm gone, or I'll have you out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear." His face wet with tears, Neville gets up and follows Madam Hooch into Hogwarts.

As soon as Madam Hooch and Neville are out of earshot, Malfoy breaks out laughing.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" He says. A few other Slytherins join in.

"Would you shut up, Malfoy?" I snarl.

"Oh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Sneers a Slytherin girl, Pansy Parkinson. "Never knew you liked fat cry-babies, Green!"

"Shut up, Parkinson," I growl. Before she can say anything, Malfoy grabs everyone's attention.

"Look!" He says, picking something up from the ground. "It's that stupid ball Longbottom's grandmother sent him!" He holds it up to the light.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry says.

"I should put it somewhere safe for Longbottom—a tree, maybe?" Malfoy gets on a broom and heads towards an oak tree. It pains me to say that he isn't a bad flier.

"Give it _here!" _Harry heads towards another broomstick.

"Stop!" Yells Hermione. "You'll get us all in trouble!"

"She's right, Harry—" but he doesn't even look at us! The stupid boy just jumps on his broom and goes after Malfoy!

The two go higher and higher in the air. I can hear them arguing, but I can't tell what it's about. I see Malfoy throw out the ball, and Harry dives to catch it. I can't tell when he catches it, but Harry manages to land with the Rememberball in his hand.

"HARRY POTTER!" And this is why you think about your actions before you act, Harry!

"In all my time at Hogwarts—how _dare _you—could've broken your neck..." Professor McGonagall runs towards us. A few people, including Ron Weasley, attempt to defend Harry, but McGonagall doesn't listen. She motions for Harry to follow her.

"Come with me, Potter," she says. The two walk back to the castle.

Madam Hooch ends the Quidditch lesson and sends us all back inside the castle. Happy to have some free time, I go to the Gryffindor common room with Hermione.

When we're there, I point to the chess set in the room.

"Want to play chess?" I ask.

"That's not chess, it's wizard's chess." Hermione says, sitting down on one of the leather couches. "I'm don't know how to play."

"Oh," I say. "I didn't know there was such a thing."

At six o'clock, Hermione and I go to the Great Hall for dinner. When we arrive, I hear Harry and Malfoy talking.

"Wizard's duel. Magic only. No hands. What's wrong? Never heard of a wizard's duel?"

"Of course he has," Ron says from beside Harry. "I'm his second. Who's yours?"

"Crabbe," Malfoy replies. "Meet us in the trophy room at midnight."

Fuming, I walk towards the two. It takes me a moment to notice that Hermione is beside me, looking just as angry.

"Ahem," I say.

"We couldn't help but overhear—"

"Bet you could," Ron sneers.

"You're having a wizard's duel. You really mustn't. You'll only loose more house points."

"Well, it's really none of your business," says Harry.

"Goodbye," Ron adds.

Hermione and I don't bother arguing with them anymore. We sit down to eat, as far away from Harry and Ron as we can get.

"They're _so_ selfish!" Hermione growls. "Gryffindor will loose because of them, I'm sure of it." She continues to rant about the two, while I simply nod in agreement.

After half-an-hour, the two of us go to our dormitory. Hermione helps me with my Charms homework. I never realized how smart this girl is! She really pays attention in class, too!

At ten o'clock, I get in bed, yawning. I'm nearly asleep when Hermione says, "Bianca? Are you asleep?"

"No," I say. "Why?"

"Well...er..." she stops.

"Yes?" I demand.

"I'm going to stop Harry and Ron." She says. "I think you should come, too." She adds.

"And I thought _I_ was going to be the one sucking us into adventures!" With that, I get up and follow Hermione out of the dormitory.

_(Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was late! I might change the update schedule a little. I'm not sure. I'll warn you guys if I do. Well, that's all. Thanks for reading and please review,_

_Flyerslilgirl.)_


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